


Too Little, Too Late

by SherlockWolf



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mind Meld, Star Trek: Into Darkness, its more like a emotional bond since it's not an official meld, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8171440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockWolf/pseuds/SherlockWolf
Summary: As Jim lies dying before his eyes, Spock is at a loss.





	1. Chapter 1

    “Engineering to bridge.” Scotty’s voice came over the comm of the Captain’s chair. In his distraction, Spock failed to notice him.  
 “Mr. Spock!” Scotty yelled, his voice desperate. It jolted Spock from his preoccupations, and he answered.  
“Mr. Scott?”  
“Sir, you'd better get down here.” Scotty sounded panicked. Spock remembered that Jim had dashed off, mumbling about engineering and immediately knew why Scotty was concerned.  
“Better hurry.” The Engineer added, but Spock was already running. Miracles were never real.

    When he arrived, Scotty greeted him with a solemn face. He tilted his head toward the glass door of the warp reactor. Spock ran over to it, glanced inside, then turned back to Scotty and demanded against all logic,  
“Open it.”

    Scotty shook his head slightly. “The decontamination process is not complete, you'd flood the whole compartment. The door's locked, sir.”

    Spock turned back to the door. Kirk was curled against it, his body braced in the door frame for support. Spock dropped to his knees as the Captain settled, false bravado etched into his facial features.     

    Spock watched as Jim closed the door behind him that led to the warp reactor itself. Spock could tell that the small effort caused Jim great pain, not only from his grunts but from the pinched expression on his face.

    Kirk’s eyes wandered ahead of him, and upon seeing Spock knelt in front of him, a rush of emotion crossed the Captain’s face, replacing the brave façade. Spock watched fear become surprise become relief.  
“How's our ship?” Kirk rasped. His eyes never left Spock’s face.  
“Out of danger." Spock’s voice was anything but controlled; the fear he felt at seeing Jim in this state overwhelmed him.  
“You saved the crew.” He added, sparing Jim from having to ask.  
“You used what he wanted against him. That's a nice move.” Kirk praised in return.   
“It is what you would have done.” Spock dismissed.  
“And this…this is what you would have done. It was only logical.”

    Spock didn’t know how to respond to that, because Jim was right. If he and Jim had been in the other’s spot at the time of crisis just minutes ago…Jim was right.

    _The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one._ He thought, wishing that no such saying existed.

    Jim took a shaky breath, his eyes widening as he confessed, “I'm scared, Spock.”

    This was too much for the science officer. He then knew exactly what Jim was afraid of, and he could feel his heart seize in his chest. Tears sprung in his eyes, but Spock made no effort to control any of what he was feeling.

    “Help me not be.” Jim pleaded, “How do you choose not to feel?” Jim’s eyes darting around Spock’s form, finally coming back to his eyes as Spock replied.  
“I do not know. Right now I am failing.” His voice quavered, and he shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. It did not work.

    Jim himself was heartbroken by Spock’s admission. It was evident in the way his lips trembled, and the look he was giving Spock was one of indescribable pain.   
“I want you to know why I couldn't let you die. Why I went back for you.” He said, every word sapping the last of his life’s strength.   
“Because you are my friend.” Spock supplied, but he was wrong. Jim was so, so much more than the word ‘friend’ could ever begin to entail.

    Suddenly Jim choked, his throat sputtering as he gasped for breath. Spock startled as Kirk’s hand appeared, pressed against the glass. He seemed to be reaching for his first officer, though he could not logically make contact. Spock ignored the Vulcan in him that argued this and raised his own hand. He pressed it against the glass across from Jim’s, fingers spread in the traditional sign of peace. Kirk imitated him, and Spock was met with an astonishing revelation.

    Despite the layer of glass between them, a connection had formed between their minds. Spock was flooded with Jim’s emotions, most of which matched his own: fear, sorrow, loss, admiration, trust. There was one that stood alone, however, shining like a beacon in the storm.

    Love explained it all: why Jim hadn’t abandoned Spock, why he’d defied countless Starfleet regulations to do so, why he was lying there now instead of the first officer, why Jim put up with him, why Spock had caught him giving himself and Nyota strange passing glances. Every part of their time together made sense with this one, silent confession.

    Spock looked away from their hands to Jim, who had a small, pleased smile on his lips. Awe trickled in through their connection, and the Vulcan knew then that the connection went both ways, because that awe was directed at Spock’s own turbulent emotions.

    When Jim met his gaze again, one last, powerful burst of _love_ overtook the connection. Both had sent it through. The moment was brief, but in it, both understood the meaning of that love, and both grieved that it would never come to its full potential. Jim offered yet another smile, but despite his strong desire to, Spock could not find the strength to reciprocate.

    And then their connection was filled with pain. Jim’s dying soul cried out in sheer agony as he took his last breaths. Spock could hardly breathe himself as Kirk’s eyes unfocused and his hand slipped down the glass, coming to a rest at his side. The connection between their minds was lost. Spock had felt his Captain’s life ebb from his body, and the knowledge that he had shared Jim’s last moment, his last breath of life, broke Spock at his very core. The Vulcan had to look away, he was so consumed by it all.

    Standing where Spock had left him, Scotty shifted his stance. Footsteps echoed in the corridor, stopping next to the engineer. Spock recognized them as Nyota’s. Her muffled gasp shook him out of his mind-numbing misery.

    He turned back to him, taking in the face of the human he’d loved for the last time. His Captain seemed peaceful in death; Spock felt anything but. Rage swelled in him as he remembered why they were here in the first place.

_“Khan!”_


	2. Chapter 2

    As soon as he’d kicked the warp drive back into place, Jim had quite literally ran for his life. He could feel the radiation seep into his skin. The initial blast had been so powerful that Jim had fallen to his knees. Now on his feet, the Captain scrambled to the exit. His cells were already screaming in agony, and every move he made caused him great pain. He closed the initial bay door as soon as he crossed the threshold, which immediately dampened the roar of the warp drive. He took a moment to breathe before continuing through the second door.

    By the time he made it through, the radiation had forced him to crawl. Each breath he drew stung his throat, and his eyes burned. He used the wall next to the final door to prop himself up as he closed the other door behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of pain raked his body. When he opened them, he caught a shadow above him through the glass and turned to see Spock knelt beside him.

    Of all the people on this entire starship, staffed by at least four-hundred various officers, Spock was the one to watch him die.

    Jim couldn’t help but feel relieved. Bones wouldn’t have been able to handle it, he would’ve tried anything to unlock the door despite the radiation that would’ve infected the deck. But Spock wouldn’t let his emotions get the better of him; he was Vulcan. And somehow, knowing that Spock would remain level headed comforted Jim.

    The Vulcan in question looked….more tense than usual, Jim would estimate. He was watching Jim’s every move with his face drawn.

“How’s our ship?” Jim asked. His throat protested every word, and he swallowed harshly.

“Out of danger.” Spock’s voice was hushed, and Jim would’ve felt more worried if he weren’t dying.

    Shit. He _was_ dying. It hadn’t occurred to him in that exact phrase until now. Fear sparked in him so suddenly that if he had not heard Spock say, “You saved the crew,” he would’ve been consumed by it.

“You used what he wanted against him. That's a nice move.” He responded. He was proud of Spock for being so clever.

“It is what you would have done.” Spock dismissed, and if he’d been human, Jim could imagine him flicking his hand in a gesture of dismissal as well.  
“And this…this is what you would have done. It was only logical.” Jim smiled at his own attempt at wit, thinking that Spock probably missed it.

    Spock stared at him like he’d just said something as equally insane as it was true. Watching him there, knowing that he was going to leave this world and his Vulcan with it, the fear rekindled itself within him.

“I’m scared, Spock.” He whispered, locking eyes with him. Spock’s face visibly cracked, and Jim felt terrible at being the cause of the Vulcan’s lost resolve. He’d wanted to break Spock many times, but in significantly more light-hearted ways than this. He’d tried to get the Vulcan to laugh on so many occasions just to see his rare, beautiful smile…but now, he’d made Spock cry.

    Spock was clearly no longer in control, and that scared Jim a little more, because it meant that the Vulcan knew his Captain was dying.

“Help me not be,” Jim found himself begging, wanting Spock to both gather himself and help Jim to do the same before the end.

“How do you choose not to feel?” He asked as an afterthought. He’d never understood how Vulcans could control themselves as completely as they did. When Pike had died, Spock had seem as stoic as ever, though Jim knew he’d been close to the Admiral. Jim had known him for a significantly shorter time, and yet Spock seemed torn. It didn’t make sense to him.

    “I do not know. Right now I am failing.” The condition of Spock as he said that only affirmed his words. Tears flowed freely from his dark eyes, and Jim briefly lost himself in the trance of the distraught Vulcan. He felt his body tremble, not from the physical pain, but from the severe feeling of loss that Spock inspired. Jim wished that he could somehow comfort Spock, which was odd because he was the one at death’s door, not his first officer.

     Suddenly, Jim had a terrible, wonderful idea.

“I want you to know why I couldn't let you die. Why I went back for you.” He said, desperation infecting his tone, but he didn’t care. Spock had to know, and he had to know _now._

“Because you are my friend.” Spock, that _idiot_ replied. Jim wanted to shake his head. He wanted to shout his true meaning to the Vulcan. Instead, his lungs seized and he sputtered for air. Instinctively he reached out for Spock, somehow thinking it would help communicate. His hand pressed against the glass, and Spock copied him as Jim’s chest heaved for breath. Spock’s fingers split into the symbol of peace, and Jim followed suit.

    The result was unexpected. Emotions that were definitely not his own but highly similar coursed into him, and he examined each. Spock’s fear, his admiration, his devotion, his sorrow, his… _holy shit._

    Maybe he hadn’t needed to explain anything to Spock, after all. It seemed that the Vulcan already understood.

    Jim felt humbled that Spock loved him equally. There had been so many times that he’d been convinced that Spock hated him. Knowing that his first officer felt quite the opposite was…a lot to handle, especially since he was dying.

    His eyes flicked away from their hands to Spock, which caused Jim to feel an overwhelming amount of love—both his and the Vulcan’s—pass between them. If only they’d had more time…

    He gave Spock a final, reassuring smile. Then his heart tripped in his chest a few times before coming to a standstill.

    James Tiberius Kirk was dead.


	3. Chapter 3

    Weird. He felt so… _weird._ His body felt absent, as though he were floating. He heard echoing voices around him, but he couldn’t see anything; the world was dark without an ounce of light.

    Two voices were stronger than the others. One was distinct, well-spoken, proper, and deep. The other agitated, raspy, and dripping with sarcasm. He found himself inexplicably fond of these two voices, particularly when they would speak to one another, because their bantering was needless and unheated but occurred nonetheless. Sometimes, it would only be the deep voice or the raspy voice, but not both. Individually they would speak to a “Jim” who never replied. He found this strange. What was there to gain by talking to someone who never talked back?

    As he listened, he heard the raspy one refer to the deep one as “Spock” and the deep one would refer to the raspy one as “Bones”. What strange names. What was a Spock? Why was the raspy one named after bones? Was their body comprised solely of bones? He imagined a femur in his mind and decided that that must be what Bones looked like. For Spock, he imagined a dog, since as a child he’d had a dalmation named Spot.

    What was a child? He didn’t understand the word he’d conjured. In fact, he didn’t understand many of the words he conjured, but with most of them came pictures, and he used those pictures to gain meaning for their words.

    When the voices Spock and Bones were absent, he would entertain himself with the images of the voices, the dog would chase the bone and vice versa. He imagined lakes and rivers, with browning shrubs and grasses. Orange and yellow leaves would fall to the water, swirling in patterns that relaxed him.

    But then, the images left him. He was thrown back into the darkness. But it left as quickly as it came, becoming consumed by blinding light. He squinted his eyes at it until he could remember nothing but the light.


	4. Chapter 4

    Jim became aware of his surroundings all at once. He found himself staring up at what was clearly a hospital ceiling. He was lying on something soft, therefore a hospital bed, and around him machines whirred and buzzed, promising life. His chest heaved as it took in fresh air without a trace of pain or effort. Jim turned his head as something moved on his left to find Bones waving a medical scanner over him.

“Oh don’t be so melodramatic,” Bones chastised him as his breathing settled, “You were barely dead.”

Jim huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes _. Good old Bones._

“It’s the transfusion that really took a toll, you’ve been out cold for two weeks.” Bones elaborated on his condition.

“Transfusion?” Jim asked, the word catching in his mind. What kind of outlandish medical sorcery had Bones invented now?

“Your cells were heavily irradiated, I had no choice.” Bones defended, and that was all Jim needed to catch on. He remembered that Bones had been experimenting with Khan’s blood sample on a deceased tribble. The blood must have brought the tribble back to life.

“Khan?” He asked for confirmation.

“Once we caught him, I synthesized a serum from his super-blood.” Bones explained, then a humorous glint appeared in his eye.

“Tell me, are you feeling homicidal, power-mad, despotic?” He teased.

“No more than usual.” Jim promised.

    Now, there was the pressing matter of just _how_ Bones had acquired enough of Khan’s blood to revive him.

“How’d you catch him?”

“I didn’t.” Bones gave him a knowing look, but that only confused Jim further.

    Until McCoy moved out of his viewpoint. Behind him stood Spock, dressed in his Starfleet Greys.

    Of course it’d been Spock to take down Khan. There was no other logical answer. Jim smiled up at him as he approached the bedside. He heard Bones shuffling around on the other side of him, but he only had eyes for his first officer. Spock’s eyes smiled back at him, and Jim suddenly felt emotional warmth trickle into his mind that was not his own. It seemed that there were remnants of the bond that they’d formed between the glass.

“You saved my life.” He whispered, and he could _feel_ Spock shy at the praise. There were also hints of shame and anger, but Spock, being Vulcan, didn’t let them show for long once he too realized their bond was intact. In fact, he closed himself off entirely from Jim. He tried not to take it to heart; Spock didn’t like to appear vulnerable. It made him curious, though, because what could Spock have done that made him ashamed of saving his Captain?

    “Uhura and I had something to do with it too, you know.” Bones grumbled behind him. Jim raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment, but never turned from Spock.

“You saved my life, Captain, and the lives of—.”

“Spock,” Jim interrupted him before he could finish his unnecessary argument, “just…thank you.”

    There was more he wanted to say, but being that Bones was there, he chose not to say anything. He knew that Spock would understand, because Jim didn’t care that the Vulcan had access to every emotion he was feeling. To him, it made communication easier. He let his gratitude show through their bond.

    “You are welcome, Jim.” Spock didn’t smile, exactly, but Jim had the sense that the Vulcan was pleased. With what, exactly, he didn’t know. But Spock was no longer sad, and that was what mattered most.

     “Chopped-liver.” Bones grumbled, and Jim finally laughed and turned to look at him.

“You too, Bones. You save my ass more times than I can count.”

“Damn right.” Bones grumbled. Then he stepped away from his computer.

“Your condition’s constantly improving. I’m not letting you leave for a few days, and you’re going to need to do muscle rehab since you’ve been laying on your ass for two weeks. Otherwise, you’re going to be fine, Jim.” Bones gave him a nod, then said to Spock,

“Watch him for me, I’ve got other patients who need me. If he tries to leave, you have permission to man-handle him.”

“Hey!” Jim protested, but Bones just gave him a _stay there or I’ll end you_ look before exiting the room.

    Neither he nor Spock spoke for a moment, but Jim was elated to feel Spock’s warmth trickle back into their connection. He smiled up at the Vulcan, whose lips twitched as if he were going to smile back. Then he asked,

“Did you kill him?”

“I assume you’re referring to Khan? No, I did not. However…” Spock paused, and he seemed to be considering whether or not to continue. Uncertainty flowed from him, as well as the shame Jim had noticed earlier. Jim let Spock feel his curiosity and lack of judgement, which reassured the Vulcan.

“I nearly killed him. If Uhura had not told me that we needed him alive to save you, I would have.” Spock admitted. His eyes were on his shoes as he spoke, and Jim urged to reach out for him. He held back, though, because he knew Spock was uncomfortable with physical contact.

“Bastard deserved it.” Jim said instead.

Spock shook his head ever so slightly. “I let my anger control me, and in doing so I almost cost you your life.”

“As far as you knew I was already dead.” Jim countered. Spock had cut himself off again, and Jim didn’t like knowing that he was beating himself up _and_ hiding it from him. Ignoring his earlier better judgement, Jim reached out for Spock with both arms, lifting himself from the bed. This turned out to be a horrible idea, because he immediately started to fall back down. Spock grabbed him before he could in order to prevent the Captain from winding himself.

     The bond flared between them at the contact, and Spock tried to recoil. However, Jim had latched on to the Vulcan’s coat, and so Spock remained bent awkwardly over him with his hands plastered on Jim’s shoulders.

“Jim, you are being ridiculous.” Spock growled, green tinting his cheeks. Jim grinned up at him. Spock wasn’t angry, just…nervous? He seemed to be that a lot, today.

    “So are you. Don’t blame yourself for me not-dying. That’s an order.” Jim said. Spock squinted at him, but then conceded with a sigh. He shifted so that he weight was not leaning on Jim, then regarded the Captain with a look of fondness.

“I understand, now.” He nearly whispered. Jim only had to be confused as to what he meant for a moment, because Spock’s warmth grew exponentially into the love he’d felt before he’d died.

    Spock had a weird way of changing topics.

Jim let his own love for Spock surge, and this time a tiny smile actually crossed the Vulcan’s lips.

“Perhaps it is too early for this.” Spock tried to pull away again, but Jim refused to let go.

“Too early for what?”

“Us.” Spock didn’t clarify further, but he didn’t need to. Jim knew what he meant, and he heavily disagreed.

“Spock, I almost _died_. It was almost too _late_ for us. What’s holding you back?” He asked, feeling Spock’s reservations.

“Nyota and I are no longer dating, but I would not want her to make incorrect assumptions.”

Jim narrowed his eyes. “Spock, you can’t lie to me when I can feel you doing it. There’s something more.”

Spock audibly sighed, shifting his body a little and turning his head to avoid Jim’s eyes. “I do not want to lose you again.” He admitted, his voice wavering the slightest bit.

“Well, I’d prefer not to die again, so I think we’ve got that covered.”

“Jim, you do not understand. My attachment to you greatly outweighs that to Nyota. If we were to breakup as she and I have, I would not handle it well.”

    Jim considered this. Spock’s concern was valid. Breakups were never fun, and if they tried a relationship but ended up failing it would certainly be hard on both of them. Not to mention, they were the two highest ranking officers of their ship. Such an event would affect the entire crew.

    It was a good thing Jim didn’t believe in no-win scenarios.

“I have no plans of breaking up with you, Spock. I’ve been in love with you for nearly two years, if you think I’m just going to let you go, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“That is…reassuring.”

“Good.” Jim released Spock’s coat, but the Vulcan made no attempt to remove himself.

“What about the crew?”

“We don’t have to tell anyone. I know you prefer your privacy, so we just won’t say anything.” Jim shrugged. Then he remembered Bones, and added, “Bones is going to figure it out, though. He knows me too well.”

“That is acceptable.” Spock said, finally standing up properly. Their connection faded until it was barely there, as it had been when Jim woke. Snippets transferred between them, but that was all.

    Spock held out his left hand, his index and middle finger outstretched while the others were folded. Jim copied him, then pressed their fingers together. The connection immediately regained strength, but that wasn’t all. Jim’s fingers tingled at the touch, and Spock _was blushing_.

    He retracted his fingers as soon as Jim noticed, his eyes looking anywhere but Jim’s face.

The Captain giggled. “You just Vulcan-kissed me, didn’t you?”

“Affirmative.” Spock’s eyes danced their way up to Jim. He probably had a dopey smile on his face, but he couldn’t care less. He reached out to Spock with one hand, and Spock shuffled closer instinctively. When he was close enough, Jim snagged his fingers in the coat again and dragged Spock down for a human-kiss.

    It was that exact moment that Dr. McCoy chose to walk back into the room. The click of his shoes on the tile startled the pair, and they broke apart to stare at the intruder. McCoy stared back, before rolling his eyes to the heavens and complaining,

_“Damnit, Jim!”_


End file.
